


the details so consuming

by Lint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: The phone goes off in her pocket and Betty sneaks a glance under the table at it, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from showing a reaction to her parents, the message from Veronica making such a task nearly impossible: I wish you never had to leave me.





	the details so consuming

Focus.

 

It's a mantra she repeats in tune with her footsteps, making pace along Sweetwater River, occasionally checking her heart rate on the fit bit. Two weeks into summer vacation and it finally feels as if she's gotten a handle on running. Having not participated in any sort of physical activity since she was eleven, and had to quit playing soccer because Alice had gotten into a shouting match with the coach.

 

She runs against perfection. Against expectation. Against disappointment.

 

Blowing the internship interview. Failing to make the cheer squad. Her sister's disappearance coupled with Alice Cooper's mommy dearest mothering.

 

Teeth grit but breathing regulated, she ups the pace trying to beat her best time accomplished just yesterday, when a girl sitting on one of the park benches catches her eye. It makes no sense, her being there. Not that people aren't out this early. Or that Sweetwater River isn't a breathtaking place to take in with the rising dawn. But she's dressed to the nines in a public park at barely seven in the morning.

 

Seriously.

 

Skirt, heels, and pearls. Perched on a bench reading a book.

 

Betty passes her without a word, though she glances down to see what the girl is reading.

 

Capote.

 

Something about that is not surprising at all.

 

-

 

The next day she's there again, as Betty struggles to keep pace, something about Thursdays always affecting her concentration. A dress this time, one very expensive looking at that, as her foot swings idly back and forth from a crossed leg.

 

She looks up today, catching Betty's eye, the small sign of acknowledgment enough that she feels a slight drop in her stomach.

 

“Morning,” she manages to say as she passes.

 

The girl doesn't echo the empty sentiment, but Betty can feel her following gaze as she continues along the trail.

 

-

 

“Hi,” the girl calls out on the third day.

 

Betty isn't sure she heard right, but stops running just the same, shooting a quick glance at her wrist before looking to the girl.

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“No I'm sorry,” the girl replies, looking genuinely remorseful, both her hands up with the book still held in one of them. “Didn't mean to throw you off your pace.”

 

It makes Betty smile, though true about her pace being ruined, she catches her breath with a hand perched upon her hip.

 

“It's okay,” she dismisses easily. “I kind of take it easy on Fridays.”

 

“Well then I guess I don't feel that bad,” the girl returns with an easy grin. “Seeing as you do this every day?”

 

Betty wipes at some sweating beading on her forehead.

 

“Weekends off,” she answers. “But yeah, I'm here every other day.”

 

The grin is still there.

 

“So what do you do with your weekends?” She inquires. “Not that I mean to pry but, as you can see, I'm not really from around here and I have no idea what to do with myself in this little town.”

 

Somehow, Betty keeps herself from a sarcastic reply about the obviousness of the girl being a fish out of water.

 

“Me personally?” she replies. “Or in general.”

 

A single brow lifts on the girl's face, that grin turning to a smirk.

 

“You. Personally.”

 

The hairs on the back of Betty's neck suddenly stand on end. A simple question suddenly capable of so many implications.

 

“Volunteer at the library,” she answers. “Not exactly a party girl, I know. But it's an excuse to get out of the house.”

 

A hand goes to the girl's chest.

 

“That sounds ominous.”

 

Betty shrugs.

 

“Family issues.”

 

Something in the girl's eyes says she understands completely, as she nods but doesn't push the issue further, shifting the book in hand to her lap.

 

“You have good taste,” Betty offers with a jut of her chin.

 

“You've read it?”

 

Betty turns serious, as she always is when it comes to the words.

 

“I'm very familiar with the works of Truman Capote,” she responds.

 

The girl smiles.

 

“You and I are going to be friends,” she offers with confidence.

 

Betty returns it, offering a hand.

 

“Betty Cooper.”

 

The girl takes it.

 

“Veronica.”

 

No last name, Betty notes. Like Madonna or Cher.

 

Just _Veronica._

 

/\

 

The house is massive at the end of the drive, Betty guiding her scooter along the single paved lane, circling around a giant fountain halfway between the gate and front door. Really, Thornhill pales in comparison, and what she wouldn't give to see Cheryl's face in dealing with the fact that someone in town has a bigger house than she.

 

That being said, it's a little intimidating being invited to such a grand boudoir, a comfortable middle class kid brushing elbows with the ultra rich can't possibly work more times than not. Still, she puts on a brave face as she parks the scooter at the bottom of the steps, setting her helmet on the seat and heading toward the door.

 

She might have assumed they had a butler, but it's still kind of surprising when an older gentleman answers the door instead of Veronica herself.

 

“Miss Cooper I presume,” he says with a small bow, before stepping aside and offering passage inside.

 

Hesitating a moment at the unnecessary ceremony of it all, she steps through the doorway, looking back to the man only straightening up when she passes.

 

“You can call me Betty,” she offers.

 

“Thank you miss,” he replies with a nod. “But I'm afraid I shan't. You may call me Smithers, and while you're a guest in this house, I am at your disposal.”

 

“Um, thank you?”

 

Smithers smiles politely.

 

“Very good, then. Miss Veronica is just outside, if you'll kindly follow me?”

 

Betty gestures that he lead the way, and follows accordingly, trying not to be so obvious in her awe about how much bigger the house seems on the inside. Smithers guides her toward a grandiose glass door, left partly open to catch a summer breeze, and extends his arm toward Veronica who is standing in the grass with a croquet mallet in hand. Even now, just hanging around her house, the girl's style is immaculate. She wonders if that will ever stop being a source of amazement.

 

“Betty, hi!” Veronica greets enthusiastically. “You came!”

 

Her lips purse, confused, glancing back to Smithers who has wandered back into the house

 

“Well, you invited me.”

 

Something clouds Veronica's face a moment, like said invitation was offered, but deep down she was afraid it wouldn't be taken up on. It's gone as quickly as it shows, a radiant smile of welcome taking its place, as she waves a hand that Betty join her on the grass.

 

“Take of your shoes,” Veronica insists. “We're doing this by Hampton's rules.”

 

Betty looks down, having not noticed the girl's lack of footwear, and sees that her perfectly pedicured toenails are painted in the same dark purple as her fingers. She kneels down to comply almost immediately, undoing her laces and kicking away the Keds.

 

“I don't really know the rules,” she says, standing back up and accepting the mallet offered. “Hampton's or otherwise.”

 

Veronica is not dismayed by the revelation.

 

“Full disclosure? Neither do I. But my parents have this court they never use, and it's so nice out, I thought it would be a better ice breaker than both of us staring at our phones trying to think of things to say.”

 

Betty smiles at her honesty, finding the ease at which it was offered so refreshing, after dealing with her mother's two faced nature on a daily basis.

 

“So how to we do this then?” She asks.

 

Veronica turns to look over the court, shielding her eyes from the sun.

 

“I guess we just knock the balls through all the wickets, and hit the stake at the end? First one there wins?”

 

“That works.”

 

“Okay then,” Veronica complies with a nod, reaching down to grab a blue ball, then hands it to Betty.

“Guest gets first shot.”

 

“Got it,” she accepts, dropping the ball back to the ground and standing over it to line up a shot, then proceeds to knock it so hard it sails out of the court and into a flowerbed.

 

“Oh,” she mutters with a grimace. “Sorry.”

 

Veronica only laughs in response.

 

“Well, I just learned something about you.”

 

“That is?”

 

“Finesse is not your strong suit.”

 

The game carries on easily afterward, the pair idly chatting about this and that, a sense of social comfort growing between them. Three rounds later they hit their limit, and Smithers brings them tea in the garden, which to Betty seems so ludicrously fancy she almost speaks in a posh British accent and wonders how the commoners are doing.

 

Put it on paper, and the two of them make hardly any sense at all. But as always, actions speak louder than words and a bond forms steadily, over a nice cup of Earl Grey.

 

/\

 

Next time Betty pulls up to the house, Veronica is waiting for her at the top of the steps.

 

“So I was thinking,” she begins once Betty dismounts from her scooter. “That you could take me for a ride.”

 

Betty immediately looks back at her mode of transport.

 

“Really?” She can't help but ask.

 

“If you don't mind?”

 

Betty is quick to back pedal.

 

“Of course not. I mean, that would be fun. But I don't have a helmet for you.”

 

Veronica smiles, quickly stepping to her left and retrieving a helmet for herself hidden behind one of the pillars on the porch.

 

“I might have taken the liberty,” she replies.

 

Betty shakes her head amused, then gets back on the scooter, and shifts the kickstand up before starting the engine. Veronica straps on the helmet, before taking a seat behind her friend, arms encompassing the girl's waist easily.

 

“Does it go fast?” Veronica asks.

 

“Depends,” Betty replies.

 

Veronica gives a little squeeze.

 

“I like it fast.”

 

-

 

They end up at Pop's after cruising around for an hour or so, it practically empty for an early Tuesday afternoon, and Betty smiles her thanks to the man himself when he sets down their milkshakes. Veronica keeps looking around as if she's never been in a diner before, bouncing in the booth seat to test its validity, touching the table like Formica is a foreign material to her fingers.

 

“Can I ask a question?” She asks once her focus returns to Betty.

 

“Of course,” Betty replies, leaning forward to take her first ship.

 

“If this is a chocolate shop, why does it sell burgers?”

 

Betty laughs around her straw, pulling back so it doesn't get stuck in her mouth, wiping away a bit of shake than has dribbles past her lips.

 

“I think Pop just liked the sound of it,” she answers.

 

Veronica nods at the perfectly acceptable answer, finally taking a drink of her own treat, brows leading her eyes upward in approval.

 

“That is-”

 

“Delicious?” Betty fills in.

 

“ _Fantastic_.”

 

Betty offers up her cup, Veronica clinking it in cheers without hesitation, before returning it to her lips for another pull.

 

“So,” Betty begins after a quiet moment. “I may have something to confess.”

 

“Oh?” Veronica questions. “Do tell.”

 

Betty sighs, idly swirling her straw.

 

“I might have looked you up online,” she continues. “And think I know why you're in Riverdale.”

 

“Oh,” Veronica repeats, softer this time. “If you think I'm up here hiding out from the sins of my father, then good on you, I guess.”

  
Betty's heart beats faster at the about face in Veronica's demeanor, hating that she caused it, wishing she had just kept her mouth shut.

 

“I just... Didn't want to keep that from you.

 

Veronica looks down at the table.

 

“And what did you learn?” she asks. “That my father is the devil incarnate? That he got his wealth by lying, cheating, and stealing? That nothing we have is rightfully ours because we must have swindled it out of a more deserving clientele? Or that none of these accusations can be proven in any way, but just by the fact that orange faced puss bag made them, they must hold some hint of truth?”

 

“Veronica...”

 

“If you don't mind, I'd like to go home now.”

 

-

 

When Betty pulls up in front of the house, Veronica dismounts the scooter quickly, walking halfway up the steps before turning around.

 

“I'm sorry,” she puts out. “I know you were just trying to be honest with me, but as you can see it's a touchy subject. My parents are up to their eyeballs in scandal, and here I am, sent away for my own protection like a scared little bird.”

 

Betty can see the tears forming in her eyes, and immediately gets off her scooter to move closer, Veronica standing her ground and not backing away.

 

“I'm a terrible person,” she whispers. “The undisputed ice queen of the upper east side. I'm cold, and cruel, everything you read about me I probably deserve because it's all true. I did awful, awful things to people. Just because I could. And the second those sharks smelled blood in the water, they all turned on me. Everyone I thought to call friend. Gone. Just like that.”

 

The tears finally fall at the end of her confession, and Betty is quick to wipe them away.

 

“Hey,” she offers kindly. “This girl you're talking about? I don't know her.”

 

Veronica's hands close around Betty's wrists.

 

“I think,” she sniffs. “I think you're the first real friend I've ever had.”

 

Betty doesn't hesitate to pull her into a hug.

 

“God,” Veronica cries against her. “How depressing is that?”

 

/\

 

They're in the theater room.

 

Not the living room, family room, or den that any average home owner would most likely have. Of course not. The Lodge's are so stinking rich they have a legit movie theater, with couches instead of chairs, in the middle of their gigantic mansion. Or mansions. Probably have several. With matching theaters to boot. Betty isn't sure if she'll ever wrap her head around having so much money luxuries like this are looked upon as normal.

 

She's currently getting a lesson in pre-code screwball comedy by one of Veronica's favorite, and in her opinion often overlooked classic film actresses, Claudette Colbert. She's never seen It Happened One Night, which is practically a crime in her friend's eyes, so here they are huddled up on one of the couches watching Clark Gable's Peter give Claudette's Ellie a choice between a rock and a hard place.

 

Part way through the movie, Veronica presses into Betty's side, slipping one arm around the small of her back and encompassing it with the other. The blonde doesn't even blink at the sudden physical tenderness, letting her own arm slide over the brunette's shoulder, the two sharing a brief smile before going back to the movie.

 

It's during the hitchhiking scene that Veronica's head shifts up again, lingering long enough that Betty feels the attention, glancing down and caught unaware by the look in her companion's eyes.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Veronica asks.

 

“Sure.”

 

“I think you're the cutest thing since diamonds and gold.”

 

As far as compliments go, it is certainly the most peculiar one Betty's ever gotten, and it tickles her enough to incite a laugh. One Veronica doesn't follow her in.

 

“I'm serious,” she insists.

 

“Well, thank you.”

 

Veronica is still looking at her.

 

“What?”

 

“I...”

 

The kiss doesn't shock her, though she gasps in surprise at the suddenness of it, Betty doesn't waver at all in returning the affection. Not that it's been a thought, floating around the nether regions of her mind, every day since they became friends. Not that she didn't want to herself, that day on the porch in the aftermath of a confession, with tears streaming down.

 

It's the easiest thing in the world to kiss Veronica back because it answers a question.

 

One she asked herself, seeing her for the first time on a park bench so early in the morning.

 

_Why don't we fall in love?_

 

/\

 

Betty sits in silence, staring down at her plate, the awkwardness of Cooper family dinners having not faded in the month and a half since Polly's disappearance. Mom says nothing, still disappointed in Betty's failure with the internship. Dad is equally silent, glancing between the two of them every other bite.

 

This is the last place she wants to be.

 

Most of the summer it's been easy to avoid home, leaving for a run at the crack of dawn, then heading straight to Veronica's for the rest of the day. Only coming back here to sleep and start the cycle over again. But every once in awhile she gets caught in a situation like this, dropping by for a change of clothes where Mom and Dad are home at the same time, and rather insistent she spend some of it with them.

 

Betty doesn't understand the point if no one at the table ever says anything. The ghost of her sister's presence echoing from an empty chair. She wants to scream at the two of them until her throat goes raw, but can never conjure up the bravery or push the words past her lips.

 

Polly left because of you, she'll never say.

 

It's your fault she's gone. It's your fault I got stuck here.

 

It's. All. Your. Fault.

 

The phone goes off in her pocket and Betty sneaks a glance under the table at it, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from showing a reaction to her parents, the message from Veronica making such a task nearly impossible: _I wish you never had to leave me._

 

/\

 

They sway together under the kaladescope of cheap party lights, none of the eldery couples around them paying the two much mind, Veronica with her arms around Betty's neck and Betty with hers around Veronica's waist. The music is all wrong for either age group, but people are dancing none the less.

 

“So you volunteer here, too?” Veronica asks into her ear.

 

Betty nods before lowering her head to answer.

 

“During the school year mostly,” she says. “Community service looks great on a college application, or so my mother is constantly insisting.”

 

When the invitation came in the mail for Emeritus Acres annual summer ball, Betty had no intention of attending, but she stuck the card in her bag as she left the house that day and it must have been sticking out far enough for Veronica to notice. Because once she had, was rather insistent they go.

 

Honestly, it feels good to get out of Veronica's house every once in awhile, scooter rides and trips to Pop's not withstanding. Ever since the shift in relationship between them, they've taken to simply shacking up all day long. Which holds no qualm for Betty, not quite ready to let everyone in town know where the needle points on her sexuality, especially where it concerns word getting back to Alice Cooper.

 

Emeritus Acres is in Greendale, and there is some anonimity in being two cities over, coupled with the fact she and Veronica are the only people under sixty who don't work here.

 

“This is going to sound bad,” Veronica starts. “But I'm really glad all your other friends were out of town this summer.”

 

Betty laughs as they twirl with the lights.

 

“What?” Veronica questions. “Turning over a new leaf and everything, I might have felt bad I was stealing you away from them.”

 

Betty leans down to kiss her.

 

“I would have made it work.”

 

-

 

Later, they're back in the mansion, laying atop one of the big beds in the abundance of rooms. A little game to see just how many they can use, being played for the last week or so.

 

“I never told you this.” Betty offers up. “But I wasn't supposed to be here this summer either.”

 

“Well I was going to be in St. Tropez,” Veronica replies. “But plans have a way of changing on us, don't they?”

 

Betty shoots her a look.

 

“Really?”

 

“Sorry. Go on.”

 

Betty sighs.

 

“There was this amazing internship in California, where I could have met Toni Morrison, who is basically my literary hero. The guidence counselor at school pretty much said I was a shoe in, all I had to do was give a good interview and it was all mine.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“My sister ran away the day before, so I wasn't exactly focused on the task at hand.”

 

“What?” Veronica exclaims. “Betty that's awf-”

 

“She's fine,” Betty assures. “She called me a few times to let me know she is. God, she sounds so happy to be away from my parents. But my mom, on top of dealing with that, still found a way to be thoroughly disappointed in me for blowing it.”

 

Veronica presses a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Parents can be profoundly disappointing.”

 

Betty smiles sadly.

 

“You'll forgive me for not being upset you didn't fulfill one of the biggest opportunities in your life though, right?”

 

Betty's eyes go wide.

 

“What? Then we never would have met. I'd just be a sad debutaunt, reading books by the river alone, and moping around her mansion without a friend in the world.”

 

“You do realize you said that sentence out loud.”

 

Veronica pounces with a flurry of kisses. One. Two. Three. Four.

 

“I mean,” Betty manages to get out between kisses. “Two incredibly selfish thoughts in one day. I fear you might be regressing.”

 

Veronica lays one more lingering kiss.

 

“How are you still talking right now?”

 

/\

 

Dog days.

 

Though neither girl has dared broach the subject of what happens when summer ends, it has been the elephant in the room for the past few days. School starts next week, Archie, Jughead, and Kevin are all due home at the end of this one. Things haven't gotten much better for Veronica's family back in New York, but Betty can't imagine they'd let their daughter miss out on her education because of scandal.

 

Sitting side by side on the same bench where they met, there's a kind of full circle poetry in the goodbye both don't want to admit this is, but with the way Veronica clings to Betty's hand she knows it must be coming.

 

“So,” Betty begins, eyes focused on the river in front of them. “I've been thinking. What if you didn't go back to New York?”

 

Veronica laughs in response, but looks sharply to Betty when the blonde doesn't echo it.

 

“You're not serious?”

 

“I mean,” Betty goes on. “You said yourself things aren't getting any better there, and that going back to Spence would be the equivalent of torture. Kids here can be cruel too, especially once they learn who you are, but trust me. You're light years beyond the richest snob we already have.”

 

Veronica laughs again.

 

“I know Smithers would do anything for your family, so he would probably agree to being your guardian while you're here. And it's a little late to enroll at Riverdale High, but I do have some pull with administration after being an office aid all of last year.”

 

Veronica's mouth falls in surprise.

 

“You've really thought about this.”

 

Betty shifts on the bench to pull out her phone, scrolling to the message she's read and reread a thousand times in the month since it was sent, and shows it to her.

 

“You're not the only one who feels this way.”

 

Veronica's free hand goes straight to her chest, tears welling in her eyes, before leaning in for a kiss.

 

“Okay,” she agrees softly, letting their foreheads press together.

 

Betty's smile is instant.

 

“You'll stay?”

 

“For you?” Veronica kisses her again. “I will.”

 

 

 


End file.
